


Christmas Carol

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [103]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Gen, Introspection, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5276204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf





	Christmas Carol

_“I’ll see you again soon, okay?”_

Though she trusted that Emily was in good hands, the ache in Scully’s chest only intensified as she watched the van pull away. This poor girl had just lost the only mother she’d ever known, right before Christmas, and now all of the evidence pointed to her father being the cause of that loss. It was heartbreaking to consider what she must be feeling, and even more heartbreaking to be completely unable to offer her any comfort or consolation. Scully closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

She lowered her hand and looked around, blinking. The situation was well in hand; Detective Kresge had already departed hours earlier with Mr. Sim, while Scully had stayed behind to coordinate with the social worker, and the SDPD’s crime scene investigators were just wrapping up. There was nothing left for her to do, but she couldn’t quite bear the thought of going back to Bill’s house just yet. Everyone expected her to be brimming with holiday cheer and enjoying this vacation with family, but how was she supposed to smile and make idle chit chat when her heart ached for a little girl she’d only just met?

A little girl who was, in all likelihood, her niece.

Sighing, she dug in her pocket for the car keys and walked over to where she’d parked. She got in the car and sat, unable to bring herself to start the engine. Certainly she could contrive of a reason to delay her return to Bill’s by going back to the police station, but she didn’t really want to do that, either. Her phone was in her hand before she had a chance to think better of it; each ring in her ear was evidence of her weakness.

Maybe it was dumb, but she’d promised herself, as a way to prove that she wasn’t _completely_ dependent upon Mulder, that she wouldn’t call him during this trip. There should have been no reason to call; she was supposed to be on vacation, with her family, with all of the support and companionship she could have required. This business with Emily… Yes, there had been a murder, and she had legitimately become involved in the investigation in a professional capacity, but the specific aspects of the situation she was struggling with now were entirely personal.

And in these matters, neither her mother nor her brother had any interest in even considering the fact that Emily might be biological family. They had been almost the opposite of supportive, especially Bill. Not for the first time this trip, Scully wished that Charlie weren’t deployed and could have been there with them. Her little brother wouldn’t have thought she was crazy, that she was seeing resemblances that weren’t there simply because she missed her sister.

“Hello, this is Fox Mulder, leave a message.”

She hung up. It was just as well. What did she expect him to tell her, anyway? There wasn’t anything he could say that would make the situation less awful. The burden was hers to bear. Alone.

Besides, if she told him about everything else, she would have to tell him how she had become involved in all of it in the first place, would have to tell him about the phone calls that defied explanation, and boy, would he have a field day with that one. She didn’t think she could deal with his inevitable exuberance just then; it was all still so hard to believe.

She put the phone away and started the car. Even if she didn’t go back to the house yet, she couldn’t keep sitting in front of the Sims’ place. After a few minutes of aimless driving, she found herself heading in the direction of the beach, around the harbor to Point Loma. The beach had often been a place of refuge when she was younger; when life got overwhelming, she could always find calm in the rhythmic crashing of the waves, in the gull cries and the familiar scent of the salty air. She could feel the wind with her whole body, ground herself with her bare feet in the sand. Even in December, it never got too cold to take her shoes off.

She parked the car and got out, made her way down to the shoreline. Two days before Christmas, the beach was nearly deserted, a handful of locals walking dogs or jogging past. She picked a spot and sat, removing her shoes and socks before burying her toes in the cool sand. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and held it, listening. When she let it out again, the sound of her exhalation was overshadowed by that of the waves breaking on the shore.

Minutes ticked by, but Scully failed to find her usual calm. The combination of worry and sadness for Emily and guilt for avoiding her family was too distracting, and soon she gave up trying to shut it out. She let herself feel it, all of it, and then there were tears sliding down her cheeks. The wind hit them, turning them into lines of cold on her face, and she wiped them away, kept wiping them away as more and more tears fell.

Minutes became hours, and though the tears did finally stop falling, she stayed there, reluctant to leave the solitude and return to the chaos of a family Christmas that felt so unfairly _normal_ when everything else was upside down. Her heart just wasn’t in it, the carols and the Christmas movies and the same family stories she’d heard every year since before she could remember. The next day would be even worse than usual; Bill and Tara were throwing a get-together with a bunch of their friends and neighbors. She would be expected to make nice and smile and answer questions about her job and where she lived, to engage in inane small talk while a little girl who had done nothing to deserve it would have to sit alone and probably scared in a children’s home on Christmas Eve. That horrible thought kept her sitting there as the sun set, and it was only when it was fully dark and she started to shiver that she finally, reluctantly, staggered to her feet and headed back.

She had missed another meal. Some part of her felt guilty about that, but she knew without a doubt that she would have been pretty terrible company, anyway.


End file.
